Suffocation
by Moment For Life
Summary: Rose was slowly suffocating. One-shot.


Wherever she turned, there he was. Over her shoulder. Beside her. Next to her. Whenever she thought that perhaps she had a moments peace, his presence would find a way into her reverie. She was stifled beyond belief.

Freedom was almost a myth to her. As a young girl, gilded within the walls of a Society which every other person seemed to thrive in; she was simply pushed, shoved and made to be the version of what a well brought up girl should be like. The absolute epitome of perfection was the aim of her parents. Her mother, Ruth DeWitt excelled at school during her time, particularly in Latin and ballet; her tall lithe figure allowed her to dance like a dream and others would watch with envy as she caught the attention of every eligible bachelor present. Her match to Robert Bukater at the tender age of nineteen ensured that she would be looked after for the rest of her life. He was handsome, strong and the eldest son of a wealthy banker. He was well educated, excelled at physical sports and intellectually magnificent to boot.

The high standards had been set since the day young Rose Dewitt Bukater had been born. Surrounded by such perfection was not only overwhelming but frightening. Her own curvaceous figure had ensured that she could not follow in her Mother's footsteps to dance, her mind; whilst sharp was not quite as good as her father's and so, Rose had excelled in English and Literature, Piano and French. Reading romantic novels became her favourite past time to keep her mentally busy and escaping into a tale of fiction seemed to help her endure the painful reminder of her own daily life.

At a garden party, late one evening, she had crossed paths with Caledon Hockley for the first time.

_''Aren't you a little young to be tasting liquor, Miss Dewitt Bukater?''_

_She almost jumped out of her skin; she managed to not choke by placing her gloved hand to her chest. She turned to see Caledon Hockley; the youngest of the Hockley brothers._

_''My dear, I didn't mean to startle you.''_

_She laughed, once the surprise wore off._

_''Mr. Hockley.'' She nodded. ''And in reference to my age, I assure you one must consume champagne to not fall asleep at these events.''_

_He smiled a genuine smile. She was fiery, he liked that._

_''Well, Miss Dewitt Bukater, I was about to ask to ask if you would accompany me to a charity ball this Saturday evening.''_

_She kept her hand on her chest. She studied him properly, up close. Yes, he was handsome. His eyes dark and a chocolate brown and his hair so perfectly styled. His tuxedo was impeccable and she assumed he was joking._

_''Oh, thank you, Mr Hockley but-''_

_''Rest assured there will be plenty of alcohol there for when the boredom takes over.'' He took a glass of champagne himself, a smirk playing on his lips. She hadn't noted any other male speak to her in such a playful way._

_She could feel him growing on her a little. His age was almost double hers but that seemed to melt away as his eyes bore into hers._

_''But, I am too young to drink.'' She raised her eyebrow._

_''Miss. Dewitt Bukater, I will not take no for an answer. I would also like to invite your mother along perhaps to dine with us. The charity is dear to my family and I hope you will accompany me.''_

_Rose smiled, her heart pounding a little. ''And, if I say no?''_

_Suddenly the noises in the room seem to die down a little. She allowed her eyes to travel around the room. All the young ladies of society seemed to be watching her so obviously green with envy. They gossiped about her, noting the way Caledon spoke with her and she felt smug._

_''No, is not a suitable answer.'' He grinned. ''Nobody has ever turned me down, Rose.'' He spoke to her directly, his eyes almost piercing hers. He was intense and he made her feel like a little girl but at the same time he made her feel like a woman._

_''Well, then I shall go with you, Cal.''_

_Her response almost knocked the wind from him. She had shortened his name, not used his surname and cut all formalities with a few simple words. She was not like the other girls he could figure out within seconds, who he knew had fallen in love with him from afar, she was different and he didn't know a single thing about her. He liked her._

_''So Rose, do you know of my family?''_

_''No.''_

_Again, her answer should have infuriated him but he grinned. She was a pistol all right and he would have to be the one to handle her. He couldn't allow another man near her all evening, even though most were kicking themselves they hadn't approached her first._

_''Do you know of mine, Cal?''_

_''Did I give you permission to use my given name, Rose?''_

_She took another sip of champagne. ''No, but I never gave you permission to use mine which you did so first.'' She sipped the rest of her champagne. Her mother approached them quietly, a smile upon her face._

_''Good evening. Mr Hockley.''_

_Cal kissed Ruth's hand who approved greatly. ''It certainly is, Mrs. Dewitt Bukater. Your daughter and I were just speaking about the charity ball Saturday evening. Rose here has agreed to accompany me, of course if that is all right with you?''_

_''Why, of course.'' Ruth was practically giddy beneath her cool exterior. Rose couldn't find a better catch if she tried._

_''I had hoped you would join us, also. If you are not busy. I hear you have your finger in many pots, especially recently.''_

_''Why, yes.''_

_Rose watched as her mother chattered with Caledon Hockley as though she had known him for years. They planned to attend another gala right in front of her as though she wasn't even there. The champagne had done little to help her tiredness and she failed to stifle a yawn._

_''Rose!'' Ruth scolded in a whisper._

_Cal smiled. ''It's all right, Mrs Dewitt Bukater, your daughter has already brought it to my attention that such galas bore her senseless, perhaps you should retire for the evening and rest for Saturdays ball.''_

_''I certainly will goodnight, Mr. Hockley.'' She watched as he kissed her hand as a note of a goodbye. Her mother followed right away, hot on her daughter's heels._

An engagement had followed three months later, along with a hasty surprise trip to Europe in which she had viewed the beautiful historic sights through the windows of a carriage, the entrapment of a hotel room and under the careful watch of her fiancé. It was a cloud of Italian operas, musical concerts, galas, yachts, polo matches, luncheons and a flurry of people; most of whom she had met before but failed to take note of little things like names. The chatter was the same; the people mindless, the topics boring simply stretching the latest design of dress, to the who's who of Society. Gossips of the newly married, the newly increasing, the scandals of affairs, divorce or any sort of wrong doing was scrutinised obsessively. Mentally, she was exhausted and physically her shoulders sagged heavily onto the table before her. It took a second to realise that a woman of her standing must sit straight backed at all times and so, she ignored the dig of her corset and sat ramrod straight throughout the rest of the dinner. She would smile, look animated and sip the tasteless yet expensive wine. She was a bauble; pretty and decorative. She was almost a part of the furniture.

In Europe, whilst heavily suppressed, she was away from home. The wedding chatter seemed to be just talk for now. The colour of dresses, flowers and interior design were just another topic of conversation. Once in Paris, her Mother had ordered fabrics and colours for the bride's gown as well as the Mother of the Bride. In London, arrangements were made for the flowers to be shipped especially from a particular florist and then was the announcement:

''In one week, we are to set sail home on the grandest ship in the world, Titanic.'' Caledon Hockley was one suave and proud man. Securing his association with the new ship would ensure that headlines focused on them as a family, his fiancée would also experience luxury at its finest. It was a win/win situation. ''The engagement gala is also to take place in two week's time. Friday 19th April.''

She had feigned the excitement which her Mother had naturally exuded. Bottle corks popped, champagne flowed and all the while, Rose watched through seemingly foggy vision as a family celebrated a wonderful end to a spectacular trip. Inside, she felt nothing.

As the day approached, Wednesday 10th April at noon, it almost felt as though Rose was waiting for her execution to come. She had laid out a black dress to wear the morning of the voyage.

''Miss? You are sure this is the colour you wish to wear?'' Trudy, her personal maid had asked gently.

Rose had glanced over the plain black piece without so much as another thought. ''Yes, Trudy. I feel like black. Isn't a person supposed to be allowed to project their inner feelings through their wardrobe?''

But of course, she had been ordered to change by her Mother and Cal. Another outfit chosen out for her, as well as the meals, the book which she had to read on the train and then the way she had taken tea aboard the steamer to Southampton. Everything. If there had been a way off the train, aside from jumping to her death, she would have contemplated every single avenue.

The ship was a wonder. Truly, one of man's greatest accomplished masterpieces but of course, she couldn't quite allow her fiancé to know just how much she appreciated just the sight of the great vessel. Boarding the Titanic had drained her, she felt like a slave, who happened to be dragged to America in chains. If she could have screamed outwardly, then she would have.

Once aboard, the chatter continued. Eleanor Elkins Widener was the one particular one to cause Rose to want to flee.

The families had met some time the previous year at a charity gala and had indulged in luncheon one or two times afterward.

Cal introduced himself.

''Your father is in steel isn't he Mr. Hockley?''

''Yes, we have the largest mill in Pittsburgh producing over three million tonnes each year.''

Eleanor turned to Ruth with that seal of approval glance before turning to Rose. ''And what about you, Miss? Still keeping up with your piano and Latin?''

''I'm through finishing school ma'am.''

''And soon to be wed.'' Ruth chimed in.

She stifled a yawn, covering her mouth with a delicate laced glove.

Eleanor raised her eyebrows. ''Dear girl, a little thing like marriage is no reason for one to halt refinement of the mind.''

Ruth laughed. ''You awful thing.''

Ruth assumed Eleanor was joking. Since there was nothing more important in a young woman's life than finding a suitable husband. All education and artistic training served one purpose: preparation for the role of society and be a great wife.

They stood, continuing to massage each other's egos until a steward found them to escort them to their staterooms. Of course, they were magnificent, beautiful and brand new. The smell of the fresh paint was still in the air, the fresh laundered linen filled their rooms and the wonderful carved wood of their fireplace. The lighting was like a dream, the carpets as thick and warm as the third-class passengers' beds.

Immediately, Rose started to look for the flaws.

''It is dreadfully dull in here, Trudy, fetch me my paintings from Paris.''

Cal had accepted a flute of buck's fizz in amusement as Ruth headed off to explore her own quarters. ''A spectacular new suite and my fiancé finds it to be dull?''

''Yes, we need colour.''

She found escape in art. To see it. To create it. Everything about the craft took her away to another place which wasn't her own mind or life and that was what she required to get by her daily life. She busied herself, hanging the pictures and making the space which she would spend the next week in, as close to comforting as she could.

Cal came to her bedroom unannounced and without a knock, as she and Trudy sorted through dresses. The poor maid was embarrassed and excused herself. These were the moments which made her skin crawl. He wanted intimacy and she wanted nothing but to run from the room when he touched her. He made a comment of her virginity and she pecked his cheek and left the room before the suffocation set in even more.

The first evening at dinner was stuffy, sickening and boring. Nothing could be enjoyed. Rose was nothing but prized cattle paraded about on the arm of a rich man. By the next lunchtime, she was exhausted. An attempt at amusing herself at the lunch-table backfired and so she had left, for the first time in her young miserable life and without so much as a word she had walked as calmly as possible to the rail of the deck to look out to sea.

It was peaceful out. The beautiful blue seemed to capture her and she envisioned herself as a bird, soaring away into the wonderful breeze without so much as a care in the world. She would fly away from it all...

Then she felt something odd, unsettling. A pair of eyes on her from below decks. She snatched a glance to where she felt it was coming from. _Oh, a rude steerage boy..._ But she couldn't help but glance back and suddenly his gaze seemed to be more enthralling than the dream of flying away from her life. She had momentarily forgotten everything.

Just a second later, Cal had dragged her arm. ''Just what are you doing? I hope you are proud of yourself.''

The moment was lost.

Sitting at the dining table later that evening, the chatter around her continued whether or not she was there. She wanted to stand and scream but would they even hear her for the importance of their own chatter. No.

She took her salad fork and beneath the table, she began to stab it into the tip of her index finger; harder and harder until it drew blood. She should feel something. Pain. Anger. There was nothing but a great deal of suffocation.

She had to leave. To excuse herself at another meal was easy and so she returned to her stateroom alone. An early night and a read of a great novel would be a remedy.

''Trudy,'' she called to her maid to help to her undress for bed.

There was no response. Again, and again.

She couldn't remove her own pins from her hair, her own necklace or the top of her dress. She was useless. Utterly worthless. A girl who could do nothing for herself.

It was then she cracked beneath the long, suffocating pressure.


End file.
